Elves have all the time in the world
by Green Queen of Clubs
Summary: Sometimes, Darcy would like to live in a Disney movie, where the happy ever after came straight after the first kiss. Sequel to Elves don't die. The dreaded first date of Darcy and Clint!


**A/N: Eh, everybody! I was terribly bored during break hours at school and Clint didn't stop making puppy eyes at me. So this is the first date that followed Elves don't die ninth chapter. I hope you enjoy! It was fun to write!**

OOOOOOOOO

Darcy ran through the tower, looking frantically for Phil.

"Phil? Phil! Elrond?"

She had been dashing around for fifteen minutes, to no avail. She took a deep breath, and resigned herself to ask for help, no matter how much she hated disturbing them for something so benign.

"JARVIS?"

There was a slight pause, and the polite, English accented voice rang out. Darcy was really proud that it wasn't even weird for her anymore. Pepper was right, you never get used to the life of the Avengers, but some parts were just _normal. _

"Yes, Miss Lewis?"

She took a last look around.

"You wouldn't happen to know were Phil is, would you?"

Maybe it was all in her head, but the AI's voice sounded slightly amused. However, if there was one person on this planet who could build a computer able to feel and express emotions, it was Tony Stark.

"Agent Coulson's presence has been requested by Agent Barton an hour ago."

Darcy huffed, but it was to no avail. Darcy really hoped it was some kind of super-agent thing that they needed to get some guy time before a date. If her first outing with Barton was to be interrupted by some .E.L.D. business, she would march to Fury's office, and make him regret the day he hired her.

"Thanks JARVIS."

"Always glad to be of use, Miss Lewis."

Darcy nodded, and ran back to the living room. She nearly knocked Tony down as he exited his workshop, earning herself an amused glance from Bruce and an indignant squeal from the billionaire. Poor little thing. She turned around just long enough to stick her tongue at him, before turning back around. She hadn't time for that. She slid in the corner, grateful for her thick woolen socks.

The living room was almost empty, but Darcy could make out a tuff of blood red hair from over the top of the couch. She skipped toward it, and threw herself on it, missing the spy's feet by an inch, thanks to the other woman's reflexes and inhuman senses.

Natasha didn't bother to do anything than arching an eyebrow, never taking her eyes from the book she was reading.

"I need your help."

Darcy was absolutely aware she sounded pleading and needy, but she was way past caring. Natasha finally deigned looking at her, a little curious sparkle in irises.

"I'm going out with Barton tonight, and I am completely freaking out."

Natasha's face did a weird little dance when she tried to smirk, smile, frown and arch and eyebrow at the same time. Trying to read the Widow's expression was like reading a book written in six different language, up to and including elfish and Klingon. Darcy didn't even bother anymore, just rolling with the punches.

The red head glanced at the clock before looking back expectantly at the brunette. Darcy knew perfectly well it was around five to five.

"At seven."

Natasha frowned at her, exasperated. Darcy's stressed state wasn't ready for a disapproving master assassin. She threw her hands in the air.

"I know! Trust me I know. But the longer I ignored it, the shorter I'd freak out."

Natasha finally took pity from her, and jumped gracefully to her feet, dragging Darcy the younger woman's room by the forearm. Once there, she all but threw Darcy on the bed, where she bounced a few times. The spy went directly to the walking closet all the suits were equipped with, but hesitated half way through, and stalked back to Darcy. She grabbed the other woman's jaw in her vice-like grip, manicured nails digging just enough in Darcy's smooth cheeks to indicate she wasn't fooling around.

"Barton has wanted this date for over a month, Darcy. He has been panicking about it for a week. _He _is convinced he'll mess everything up and you'll go back to hating him. There is nothing _you _can do to mess this up and change his mind on this. He wants this. You want this. Get both your heads out of your asses and make it happen."

Darcy couldn't do anything else than nodded, pined as she was under the cutting blue stare. The spy smiled slightly, nodded and went back to the closet, rummaging through the different outfits.

"So that was _my _'You're an idiot' speech, right?"

Natasha looked at her for a brief moment before nodding and turning back to the clothes.

"Great, because Clint made it sound like he had one too, I was expecting mine a bit sooner."

"He is a bigger idiot than you are."

Darcy couldn't help but bristle at the implications.

"What, because he's a man, and the man should be the tough in the relationship and take the lead?"

Natasha grinned, still facing away.

"No, because you are easier to read than he is."

Darcy deflated, and fell lying on the bed. She stared at the ceiling, and despite Natasha's reassurances, began imagining just about every way this could turn ugly. There was quite a few, first one being Barton remembering just why he didn't like her, and going away. Darcy wasn't sure she could deal with that one. Not that she could do much to prevent that one. There was also the one where one of Barton's crazily sexy exes interrupted the dinner, and he fell right back in love with her. Or the one-

"Try this one."

Natasha was standing right in front of her, holding one of the dresses she bought with Pepper before Stark's party, a little purple cocktail one. Darcy slowly got to her feet, taking it carefully. The bright satin was smooth.

"Isn't it a little bit too flashy?"

Natasha shrugged and shooed her toward the bathroom.

"He loves purple."

Darcy decided arguing with her future boyfriend's best friend wasn't the best start to a relationship, so she kept her further doubts to herself, going to change. The dress was pretty simple, showing off her curves in all the right ways without looking slutty or showing off. It was one of Pepper's discoveries, not being something Darcy would chose for herself. She usually favored looser attires, more vintage. She refused to call it hipster, by principle.

However there was no way to deny it looked stunning. But she would think the spy and sniper in Barton preferred being a little bit more inconspicuous. Apparently not. She exited the bathroom, standing awkwardly in front of Natasha. The older woman had her arms folded under her breasts, and was eyeing her critically. Darcy bit her lower lip. Natasha jerked her head.

"Turn around."

Darcy slowly twirled to face the other way, and suddenly Natasha was behind her, tugging at the back of the skirt, and flattening it on her hips and backside. Once she went away, Darcy whirled back, pointing an accusatory finger at her companion.

"I knew you were having impure thoughts about my body!"

Natasha gave her another of her patented 'Don't be stupid' look, and gestured Darcy out of the room. Darcy frowned at her, requesting and explanation.

"Makeup and hair."

Darcy nodded, and followed Natasha to her own floor, because yeah, the spy probably was equipped better than her in that department. It was the first time she ever entered the assassin's living space, since everybody seemed inclined to invade hers whenever they needed, or wanted to talk to her.

Not that Darcy would ever dare to enter someone else's floor without their express permission. Except Phil's and Tony's. Phil for obvious reasons, Tony because JARVIS was his main and only security. And JARVIS was on her side, much to the billionaire's dismay.

But Natasha's? That only promised pain and suffering. And despite what her taste in men may have indicated, she wasn't masochistic. The decoration was surprisingly warm, dark wood panel and deep red paint. It had a boudoir atmosphere that Darcy relished in, even if she preferred living in more modern looking accommodations. Natasha was already in her bedroom when Darcy noticed she had been staring. She avoided Natasha curious look, not caring to explain she expected blank empty walls and impersonal spaces. Or that she was glad the spy felt enough at home here to take time to really settle.

Natasha pushed her down in the chair, and looked at Darcy through the mirror.

"You are not allowed any complaint from now on."

Darcy's eyes widened and she nibbled on her lower lip again, earning herself a sharp slap on the back of the head from Natasha.

"Don't I get a say in this?"

Natasha snorted, smirking.

"No."

OOOOOOOOOO

At five to seven, Natasha was just doing the finishing touches to Darcy's make up. The young woman was trying to understand what kind of witchcraft Natasha did, because she never managed to do anything like that herself. Pepper seemed to be of the same mind.

"Natasha, you could make fortune as a makeup artist. It's so radiant and natural."

The tall woman had arrived about half an hour prior, directed there by JARVIS. Darcy had hoped the CEO would be able to tame down Natasha's extreme enthusiasm and techniques, to no avail. Pepper seemed to be of the opinion that leaving carte blanche to Natasha was the best course of action. Not that Darcy could argue with the result, but she was pretty sure most of the hair pulling and rough head turning hadn't been necessary. It was probably part of the punishment for being an idiot.

Natasha tugged Darcy out of the chair, and made her stand in the middle of the room. The two other women turned around her, chasing for a wrinkle, a hair out of place, or a mistake in the makeup. When they were satisfied, they tossed her out of the room and into the elevator, Natasha taking one look at her phone before grinning.

"He's waiting in the living room."

Darcy took a few deep breaths. It would be great, everything would go swimmingly. Phil and JARVIS, and Bruce wouldn't let her do this if they thought it would work. Natasha wouldn't let Clint do it either. Everything would be just fine.

Of course, the first thing she succeeded doing when she exited the elevator was tripping in the carpet. She was spared the humiliation of a face plant by a big hand grabbing her upper arm while a strong arm snaked around her waist to steady her. She raised her head to meet Clint's. It was a great opportunity to once again appreciate how magnificent his eyes were. They were startlingly blue today, sharp and clear. It was the first time she really saw him since the party, since a few attacks in New York and Boston had obligated the whole team to come and go all week.

"Hey."

She hated how small her voice sounded. Man up, girl! You are a strong, capable woman. He grinned awkwardly in answer.

"Hey."

It was nice to know she wasn't the only one feeling unsteady. She cleared her throat noisily, and pushed herself away from Clint's-admittedly very comfortable and warm-chest. He let her go, going for stuffing his hands in his pockets. A loud couch sounded beside her.

She turned around to see Phil who was looking severely at Clint. The archer pinched his lips, and let his hand fall limply at his sides. Darcy smiled at the older agent.

"Hey, nice of you to join us."

Phil's lips twitched upward.

"Don't worry, I'm not chaperoning tonight. Just making sure Barton doesn't ruin his suit five minutes in. Again."

Darcy grinned, and Clint glared at Phil, looking insulted and indignant. Darcy smiled even more.

"I'll try to bring him, and his clothes, in one piece Dad."

Phil had a brief content and pleased expression before nodding, and walking to the elevator's doors.

"Just try and keep the sleeves attached, I'll count it as a win."

And with that comment he was gone. Darcy turned back to Clint, who was still standing with his arms limp. She took a long moment to admire what was apparently Phil's work. Clint was wearing gray pants and vest, with a crisp white shirt and a steel blue tie. Everything fitted perfectly, and he looked good enough to eat. Especially with the uncertain, nearly boyish expression he sported at the moment. She looked at his face just in time to see his eyes snap up, and she smiled, knowing he had been appreciating the view as well.

They stared in silence for a while, trying to decipher which one should talk first, and they both opened their mouths at the same time.

"Should we-"

"How about-"

She chuckled at bit, but he seemed a bit upset at himself, jaw a teensy tensed. She smiled at him.

"Are we going?"

He coughed, and gestured to the elevator.

"Yeah, we should."

She frowned slightly at him, but turned around to face the silver doors. She jumped when she felt a hand settle on the small of her back, and felt it freeze. She leaned lightly toward it before he could get to remove it. She smiled when she felt him relax, if minimally. She would take whatever she could get at the moment. If he got anymore strung, she was afraid he would snap.

The doors opened, and in a matter of seconds, they were in the garage. Clint had yet to speak another word, as he put the hand back, leading her to a black car with two purple lines decorating the flanks.

Apparently Natasha was right about the purple thing. Darcy didn't know why she even bothered doubting the spy anymore. It was a waste of energy and time. Clint opened her door, standing a bit too straight for the gentleman gig to be believable. She smiled at him, sliding in the seat. He started the car and they were off. Darcy took a deep breath, looking at him.

"We are we going?"

His eyes flicked to her face, and his voice was hesitant.

"Le comfit."

She smiled at him, and settled more comfortably in her Seat. She had mentioned the restaurant to Bruce a few weeks back, when she was still healing from the Goblin's attack. It had just opened, and had pretty good reviews. She had said she would like to try it out whenever she got the chance. She thought about making it a team thing, but it hadn't actually happened yet.

"Thanks."

He looked at her again, and she smiled at him. His grip on the steering wheel loosened a bit. Darcy frowned at it a bit. Was he that worried about every aspect of this evening? She saw him flex his knuckles once again.

"You look great, by the way."

He smirked a bit, nodding.

"Thanks. It's not really my type of things. Phil knows more."

Darcy didn't like the note of self-deprecation in his voice.

"Yeah, well me neither. Natasha dressed me up."

He looked at her briefly, incredulous.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I feel bad for every Barbie I ever played with in my youth."

He snorted, and she smiled. Yeah, maybe it would work. They didn't talk for the remainder of the trip, but it didn't unsettle her as much as before. They kept glancing at each other, pinching their lips to keep themselves from laughing.

Before long they were parked in front of the restaurant. The neighborhood was calm and he went to open her door again, offering his hand for her to take. The motion brought them close, almost chest to chest. She smiled up at him.

"Thanks."

He nodded briskly, which she took to mean you're welcome. He led her into the restaurant, asking for a reservation for 'Barton'. She jabbed her finger into his ribs as they were led away.

"You know 'Clint' would have worked as well."

He gave her an unimpressed look, and she beamed at him. He froze for a moment, before tentatively smiling in return. It was still close lipped and cautious, but it was there nonetheless. They seated themselves, and picked up the menus. Clint squinted at it for a while, before apparently choosing and putting it down. Darcy took a few more moment before choosing the salmon with the black pudding in appetizer. She looked at him, smiling slightly.

"So what are you having?"

He looked at her.

"Scallops with the duck."

She smiled.

"Sounds good."

He nodded and looked away, at an empty table beside them. A waiter came to clean it up, and from the attention Clint bestowed on him, it must have been the most beautiful thing he ever saw. She sighed and crossed her arms.

"Is it going to be like this for the whole evening?"

His eyes jumped to her, innocent and worried. His jaw was back being tight enough to break his teeth.

"I beg your pardon."

"Are you going to pretend I don't exist for the rest of the evening?"

She stared at him for a long time while he seemed to be wishing to disappear. He shook his head, mumbling.

"I'm not ignoring you."

She grinned humorlessly.

"You're making a damn good impression of it."

He seemed at lost for word, for a few seconds. She looked at him in return, waiting for him to talk. When it became obvious he wouldn't, she continued.

"And you know, I really want this to work. I like you, otherwise I wouldn't be here. I like you, you're funny, you're smart, and you're a fucking secret agent. But just when I think things are finally going better, you act like you couldn't care less about me, and would rather be anywhere else."

He paled, and pursed his lips, leaning back in his chair. Darcy could _see _the effort he put into not folding his arms.

"I don't look interested? You looked damn mesmerized by me when you were flirting with Coulson."

She leered at him.

"Coulson? You thought I was flirting with Phil?"

He smirked, and her chest constricted. He hadn't looked like that for a few months.

"Yeah. Women love the suit."

Darcy closed her eyes, and tightened her fist. She knew her voice was getting a bit too hard, but couldn't really bring herself to care at the moment.

"No, I wasn't. Phil is like my second father."

Barton didn't answer, apparently trying to will the truth out of her. Darcy was panting. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew this wouldn't work. Why was she even kidding herself? He must have drank a bit too much at Tony's party, and haven't found time to call it all off. She started rising, which, for some reason, caused him to turn pale once more, and slightly panicked.

"I have no idea why you're even here Barton, but I won't stay around to be the butt of the joke."

She was about to walk away when he caught her wrist. She froze, waiting. She heard him take a few deep breaths.

"I like you. That's why I'm here. I like you."

She turned around, not yet seated but giving him his chance.

"Then why are you-"

"I don't know! But every times I try to talk to you, it comes out wrong and we end up at each other's throat. And when you talk to Coulson, to Bruce, hell even to Stark everything's fine, and you're having fun, and-and-and I don't know. It just doesn't work with me. And then Tasha came, and told me you liked me, and I didn't believe her, not really. But there was a maybe, a 'maybe Tasha's right'. And the Goblin happened, and you almost died, because he thought we were together. And everyone looked at me like I should make a move, because It Was Real. And I was really starting to believe it you know? But I couldn't, because I still mostly thought you hated me. And you and Phil would always look at each other like you, I don't know. Just looked at each other that way."

He swallowed, and his eyes darted away.

"And the stupid party, with Storm, and I just thought, Phil is one thing, but I'm not going to lose to Storm. And I went and you said yes. And here we are tonight, and this is a total disaster and I should have just kept my big mouth shut."

He slumped into his seat. Darcy stared at him, mute. He looked almost empty. She didn't like that look. Almost as an afterthought, he mumbled.

"You should go."

He finally let her wrist go, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. As if ignoring her would solve his problem. She looked at his tight fists, and thought 'maybe'. 'Maybe he is as deep into this as I am'.

"You know, Tasha's right most of the time."

He looked up, slowly, dejected, clearly not understanding. She slowly settled herself in front of him, ignoring the few glances people threw their way.

"I do like you."

Clint made to open his mouth, but she silenced him with a sharp look.

"If you bring up Phil now, I will hurt you. Don't think I can't, I train with the Black Widow. If you ever bring up, or get into your thick skull that me and Phil Coulson have, or will ever have any romantic feelings for each other, I will hurt you. He is a father to me. And I'm not into incest."

Clint stared for a moment before nodding, and smiling tentatively.

"So you like me."

Darcy nodded, returning the smile.

"Yes. And I'm not going to say the 'Let's start from the beginning, Hi my name is Darcy.' crap, because that doesn't work. So what about we work on the 'Letting the other fully express his thoughts before jumping at his throat? And go from there?"

He smiled at her.

"Sounds good to me."

The waiter came at that moment, watching them gingerly.

"Are you ready to order?"

They both smiled sheepishly at him, and passed their commands. Darcy apologized for the disturbance, and he assured it was nothing. There was a few seconds of awkward silence when he was gone, and Darcy took a sip of water before talking again.

"So, just for the record. How exactly did you learn I wanted to come here? Did Bruce tell you?"

At her surprise, he blushed and looked away. She frowned playfully, expectant.

"I, hm, I heard you tell him."

Darcy arched an eyebrow at him.

"You heard me?"

He rubbed the back of his head with a small guilty smile and pleading eyes. Like he was asking her not to ditch him agin.

"I was kinda in the air vents. Above you."

Darcy stared at him.

"In the vents."

He blushed a bit more.

"Yeah."

She cocked her head, pondering it.

"So, essentially, you were avoiding me, but you were stalking me."

Clint looked up at once, indignant.

"It wasn't stalking, it's..."

He trailed off, and Darcy raised a stern eyebrow, willing her face to follow the program. Don't crack up. Don't crack up. Don't crack up.

"Information gathering?"

He finished his defense in a question, looking at her like a bomb that might explode at any time. It wasn't the first time he did that, but it was definitely the first time he was blushing red and looking guilty while doing it. She couldn't help it anymore. She burst out laughing. His eyes widened to the size of tea cups. She spoke breathily between bouts of laughter.

"God, why are you so freakily adorable?"

He looked slightly indignant at that.

"I'm not adorable, I'm ruggedly handsome!"

She laughed even more at that, and he proved her point by pouting at her. She had to admit, he had the best puppy eyes she had ever since. Her laughter died down, and she looked at him with sweet eyes, smile still wide.

"We are so fucked up."

He grinned a bit, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, it comes with the territory. You know, Avengers and all that."

She nodded, leaning back into her chair. Clint seemed to take this last little tell as the proof she was going to stay, and he relaxed. She stared at him.

"You really thought I was into Phil?"

Clint who was sipping his glass of water nodded, taking the time to swallow before answering.

"Yeah. Every time we went in ops, women were all over him. Quiet, competent guy. They're nuts about him. I only got the weirdos."

Darcy frowned.

"I'd have thought they'd liked you. The dark brooding type. The broken soul every woman wants to mend."

Clint smirked.

"Apparently they like their guy well read and articulated. I'm too awkward and dumb to be of interest. I'm too much trouble, and not enough of a good actor to cover it up completely."

Darcy arched an eyebrow.

"You're not dumb."

Clint smirked. Darcy decided he was doing a bit too much of this.

"Compared to the kind of crowd that needs me and Phil to be sent in? Yeah, I'm dumb."

Darcy had enough of this. She slid her feet out of her shoe, and let it trail from his ankle to just over his knee. He choked, and went to speak, but never got the chance, the waiter appearing with their first course. When he left she smiled innocently at Clint, taking a sip of the red wine the man had brought with the appetizers.

"I asked a question, I think it's your turn."

Clint narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, trying to uncover her strategy, and Darcy kept her own gaze innocent.

"What would you have done if Fury hadn't hired you?"

She made a show of thinking about it, cutting her pudding.

"Well, I was thinking about professional gold digger..."

He choked on his own mouthful, and breezed a bit before looking at her with misty eyes.

"It was a serious question, Lewis!"

She giggled at him, and his stare dropped to her lips. He was smiling, so she figured he wasn't too mad.

"Ok, well I..."

OOOOOOO

After the dinner, they went for a walk in a nearby small park. Clint tried to wrap an arm around her waist without her noticing. She trumped his efforts by rolling her eyes and leaning in his side. He mock glared at her.

"I was trying to be smooth."

She smiled up at him.

"Just don't do the yawn and stretch thing and you'll be fine in my book."

He laughed and nodded.

They were in the car, making their way back to the Tower, preparing themselves for the unavoidable debrief that was waiting for the at the Tower, when Darcy casted a side way glance at Clint.

"You know, I don't really mind the arguing."

Clint raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged.

"I mean, I argue all the time with everybody. Even Phil."

Barton smiled a bit at that, but let her finish.

"I love arguing, and I'd hate us to turn into the lovey-dovey type of couple who always agree on everything because we're afraid of arguing."

Barton was silent for a while.

"So you're saying?"

"Yes to arguing, but never being mean when we're doing it? No insults, or nasty name-calling, or anything like that."

Barton pondered it for a few moments.

"Deal."

Darcy grinned at him, before holding her pinky finger at him.

"Pinky promise?"

He stared at it for a long while, before looking up at her with an amused 'Are you serious?' look. She nodded, still smiling. He grinned, and held out his own pinky.

They exited in the garage, and looked at each other. Clint took and hesitant step forward and Darcy did the same. They met each other in the middle, Clint taking hold of her waist while she wrapped her arms around his neck, they smiled before joining their lips.

It heated up in a fraction of second, Darcy melting into his chest while Clint's tongue invaded her mouth. When they separated to breath, Clint whispered against her lips.

"You know they're going to ambush us in the living room and our floors, right?"

They kissed again, before breaking apart again, when Darcy answered.

"But not in Tony's."

Clint narrowed his eyes at her,

"Do you think JARVIS will-"

She smirked evilly.

"Are you kidding? He loves me."

Clint beamed in return.

''Please rub your hands together while you cackle evilly.''

Darcy snorted, and wrapped an arm around one of his.

"Don't tempt me. Let's go."

Darcy dragged him to the elevator. She pressed herself to him for a quick kiss, before speaking up.

"JARVIS?"

"We are climbing to sir's floor, Miss Lewis. Also, the security in the suit has encountered some difficulty and will be disabled until tomorrow morning. The bed sheets have been changed this morning."

Darcy chuckled, looking at Clint with sparkling eyes.

"Can you keep him away, JARVIS?"

"Dr. Banner accepted to help me, Miss Lewis."

"Wonderful, thanks JARVIS."

"Goodnight Miss Lewis."

She whispered, "Oh yes it'll be." before squeezing herself against Clint once more. The archer slipped his hands under her skirt. Just at that moment, the doors opened with a ping.

Darcy giggled, and wriggled out his grasp, skipping toward his bedroom. She smiled as she looked over her shoulder.

"Coming, Bow Boy?"

He sputtered, indignant, and barged after her. She laughed as he reached her. JARVIS closed the elevator's doors and dimmed the lights. A few floors under, Phil smiled at his phone's screen and closed it, leaving the two stubborn idiots to themselves. He shared a long look with Natasha that meant the world, while Tony ran around, pestering stubborn idiots that were taking far too long.

Phil wasn't rushed to get to the juicy gossip.

Elves have all the time in the world.


End file.
